Lost in Time
by Das War Schon Kaputt
Summary: Harry James Potter was temporarily temporally displaced – and none too pleased about it.
1. Prologue

**Lost in Time**

**Summary: **One Harry James Potter was temporarily temporally displaced – and none too pleased about it.

**PROLOGUE**

Harry Potter was temporarily temporally displaced – and none too pleased about it.

It was his responsibility, they'd told him – since it was his last expedition into the DoM nine years ago that had caused the last batch of time turners to be destroyed – that he acted as their guinea pig for their new and improved models. He wouldn't die, they'd insisted. He was, after all, Master of Death and, if he found himself too far away from his own timeline, they had set up a temporal beacon which he could home in on and use to get the hell out of Dodge. Perfectly safe, they'd said. It wasn't even the first prototype, they'd said. He'd be fine, they'd said.

Bullshit.

Harry didn't _want _to be here. Harry didn't _want _to be the Department of Mysteries' latest test subject. But, Harry didn't also want the DoM making it any harder for him than they were already and, if this was the price to pay to get them off his back, he'd figured that it was worth it.

Of course, being thrown through a temporal vortex that made you feel like you were chewing on your own innards was not advertised as part of the deal.

And neither was, for that matter, the rough landing.

THUD!

Harry's entire body seemed to crumple upon impact with the ground. There he lay, his glasses skewed, his robes dishevelled and his face smeared with something – something that Harry severely hoped was not animal manure. It took a couple of seconds for Harry to remember to breathe, but when he did, he was rolling over and dry heaving on the ground, suddenly glad he didn't eat anything before his _… (Flight? Jump? Deportation?)_ … departure.

"Never again," he coughed out, nursing his ribs. He didn't care what they offered him; it was someone else's turn to be thrown through space and time.

Harry staggered to his feet, noticing immediately the harsh dryness of his surroundings. Sandy plains stretched for miles and miles in each direction, with no sign of human settlement in any direction. The sun beat down harshly upon him, despite the cooling effect of the strong wind.

"Shit."

It was official: Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World and latest guinea pig for the Department of Mysteries, had no idea where on Earth – if he was even _on _Earth – he was supposed to be.

"Brilliant," Harry muttered to himself. "The infamous Potter Luck strikes again."

With an elongated sigh that spoke of long suffering, Harry drew his wand out from its holster on his arm with a flex of his wrist. Feeling the familiar grip of his wand in his palm, Harry allowed his analytical side to take over.

Activating the fail-safe to get out of there wasn't an option. The DoM would just send him back if he hadn't gotten any information as to where he had ended up. But that information wasn't going to be easy to find…

Harry sighed again, before laying his wand on his palm.

"_Point me_," he said.

* * *

It felt like he had walked for miles before he caught sight of the settlement, but it had probably been longer. With no major landmarks, apparating in such an environment was dangerous and it wasn't certain if flying with his broom was an option either.

The blur on the horizon was like a godsend to Harry. Through the heat haze, he wasn't able to make it out in enough detail to risk apparating there, but it marked the beginning of the end. All he'd have to do would be walk up, ask someone for the year, then find some secluded place to locate the temporal beacon back home and bam, he was out of there. Job done. No strings attached.

Wrong.

He was within two hundred metres when the smell hit him. The putrid, repugnant smell that Harry would recognise anywhere. The smell that had hung heavily in the air of the final battlefield. The smell of rotting flesh.

Subconsciously, Harry quickened his pace, moving at a jog, then breaking out into a full sprint. His lungs burned in the heat, but Harry ignored it, pushing forward with unrelenting pace.

It was a truly horrific sight, he arrived to.

Corpses, barely recognisable, scattered across the ground. Blood like paint on the walls. Complete and utter deathly silence.

And, right in the centre, chained to a wall, beaten and bloody, a boy, barely sixteen.

Harry froze in place, his eyes glued to the boy, one thought circling in his mind. Too young. The kid was far too young.

Don't interfere, they'd told him. Don't screw with the timeline. Screw _that_. If they'd wanted a passive bystander, they should have sent someone else.

The next decision that Harry made changed his life.

Looking back on it, he wasn't sure what exactly he was thinking as he hoisted the boy up onto his shoulders. He probably wasn't thinking at all as he raised his wand, ready to cast the recall spell.

He knew exactly what he thought about it now, though:

Damn his hero complex.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Dennis Creevey twirled his teaspoon around his coffee cup, watching as the sugar lumps dissolved one by one into the black liquid. He cupped his hands around the china, drawing it closer to him, and stared out of the misty café window, out at the rain. It always seemed to rain here, he thought as he checked his watch.

"Three minutes late," Dennis muttered.

Dennis frowned, then took another sip of his coffee. It was unusual for his boss to be more than ten seconds late and generally, when he was, that spoke of trouble. Lots of trouble. The last time Dennis's boss had been late for work, the Prime Minister's office had been infested with Dementors.

Sometimes, Dennis would wonder what he had done to be given what people in London referred to as the Antarctica Placement. Wales was home to retirement homes, mountains and endless amounts of sheep, but not much else – apart from trouble. It rained a lot and half of Dennis's life was spent filling out forms for whatever damage their team had caused. Working here was a hard job, but … whatever faux-pas he had made in his first few months, Dennis was glad he had made it.

"You look pretty lonely, honey," a voice to his left said.

Dennis jumped slightly, then turned around to see the waitress in the café smiling at him.

She was twenty-odd years old and had died blonde hair. Her face was slathered with an excessive amount of foundation and her eyes were heavily made up. She dressed in line with what Dennis presumed the style these days was, with skinny jeans, an 'indie' jumper and several woven bracelets around her wrists. She was probably a university student, Dennis guessed, working to help pay for her upkeep.

Dennis shrugged, turning back to his coffee.

"Mind if I keep you company?" she asked, battering her eyelashes at Dennis in a way that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. "I mean, you've been waiting for half an hour already. I don't think they're coming." She gestured to the steaming, unclaimed cup beside Dennis. "I'm Katie."

Dennis checked his watch again. Five minutes late. This was getting serious.

"If you're worried about my shift," Katie continued, "I've just finished. It's no problem really—"

"Sorry," a voice came from behind the waitress. "He's waiting for me."

Both Dennis and Katie turned their heads around to be met with the face of a smiling, black-haired young man. Harry Potter stood in front of the two, his suit immaculate apart from the slight looseness in his tie. Dennis couldn't help but feel slightly amused when Katie looked star struck at the man.

"Ah," Katie said, flushing slightly. "Uh, sorry." She fumbled for her pad of paper. "Can I get you anything?"

Harry titled his head to the side, as if confused.

"Didn't you just say your shift finished?" he asked.

Katie blinked twice, then flushed again, before scuttling off. Harry watched her go, his face becoming more and more amused each second that passed. Then, he took a seat down next to Dennis. There was a second's pause before any of them said anything.

"That was cruel," Dennis commented, taking a sip of his coffee.

Harry shrugged.

"I needed her to go away," he said complacently. "That was the easiest way."

Dennis shook his head and then pushed the cup of coffee across the table to Harry, who grinned and took a large swig of it.

"I still don't get how you can drink black coffee," Dennis commented as Harry replaced the cup on the table.

"Better than Skelee-Gro," was all Harry replied with.

Dennis sighed, then took a sip of his own coffee.

"You were late," he eventually said. "You're never late. Why?"

Harry froze, his hands wrapped around the coffee cup and his eyes on the table. Then, he looked up and met Dennis straight in the eye.

"I found them."

Dennis blinked twice. Then he smiled.

"I'll tell the team."

* * *

Jack Harkness watched Gwen Cooper as she bolted out of the bar where he was sat, sighing slightly. Gwen was the type of person Jack felt he would be able to trust with his back and, if they were hiring, Jack would have liked to have on his team. Gwen had had a nice, inquisitive mind and, once they got over her stubborn belief that aliens couldn't exist, she would have been a shoe-in. But they weren't hiring and Torchwood had to remain secret.

It was a waste, really.

Jack sighed, preparing to pick up his stuff and leave. Sitting in a bar in a WWII greatcoat was attracting a tiny bit more attention than he would have liked.

"Two beers please," came a voice to Jack's left.

Jack blinked twice.

Sitting in the seat where Gwen had been just moments before was a man. He was dressed in an expensive suit and his posture spoke of a rich background that did not fit in the slightest with the atmosphere of the pub. He stood out more than Jack, and that was saying something.

The man was good-looking and, Jack could tell, possessed an inordinate amount of charm. From the dazzling smile he had sent the barman to the polite gaze he was holding on Jack currently, it was certain it was a practised trait.

"Pleasure to meet you," the man said, holding out his hand for Jack to shake.

Jack stared at the hand before checking around him. He hadn't accidentally walked into a gay bar again, had he?

"I was just leaving actually," Jack said, standing up.

The man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I think you're going to want to stay," he said.

Jack shook the hand off.

"Look," he said. "As charming as you are, I have somewhere to be."

The man shot him a funny look, then, as if realising something, burst out laughing.

Jack was suddenly overcome with the uncomfortable feeling that the man was laughing at him.

"You think," the man gasped. "You think that _I'm _coming onto _you_?" The man shook his head. "Sorry, mate, but you're not my type."

That was when Jack's eyes finally noticed a significant piece of jewellery on the man's ring finger. Married. Oh. _Well, _not that _that _had ever stopped him before, but…

Jack turned around to walk away.

"You don't want to do that, Captain Jack Harkness."

Jack froze mid-step. He titled his head to the side, then turned around.

"Who did you say you were again?" he asked.

The man smiled.

"I'm Harry James Potter – spelled as it sounds in case you want to run a check on me – and, Captain Jack Harkness, you're going to want to stay for one simple reason."

Jack raised his eyebrows doubtfully, but didn't reply to the prompt.

The man named Harry James Potter smirked.

"I found Gray."

* * *

It was disgusting.

Gabrielle scrunched her delicate face up in repulsion, staring at the object in front of her. Silver-blonde hair hung down by either side of her face before being cropped at chin-length and her deep blue eyes peered out from under a haze of uncut fringe. Beside her was Justin, the second in command of their unit, who looked disturbingly unperturbed by the sight in front of him. He had brown hair and was of muscular build, but his reaction to the sight before him couldn't have been more different to Gabrielle's. If anything, his expression spoke of fascination – something which Gabrielle refused to even attempt to understand.

Eleanor Branstone, the third member of their unit present stood in front of the both of them, holding a lump of blackish flesh in front of them like a trophy. She was wearing a lab-coat that differed from a doctor's only in that it was navy, not white, and her black hair was held up out of her face by a tight bun. Tucked behind one of her ears like a pencil was her wand.

"Ellie," Gabrielle said very slowly, her eyes not leaving the lump of flesh. "I'm going to say this only because someone _has_ to – _not_ because I necessarily want to know – but, _what _the _hell _is _that_?"

"This thing?" Eleanor asked, waving the object at Gabrielle and grinning when her blonde companion recoiled away from it in horror.

"No," Gabrielle said sharply, scrunching up her nose. "The other repulsive lump of flesh in the room."

"Don't be rude about Justin," Eleanor quipped and, before Justin could respond, continued, "as for _this_ lump of flesh, I have no clue."

"So why are you showing it to us?" Gabrielle pressed.

Justin, whose eyes had been pinned on the flesh as if memorizing its very structure, pushed himself off the desk he was perched on and walked over to stand by Eleanor's side. He placed his brown eyes on Gabrielle before replying.

"Ellie's showing it to us _because_ we don't know what it is," he explained. "Think back, Gabrielle. How many times have there been where we have been completely at a loss as to what something is?"

"I get that," Gabrielle protested, walking to inspect the object more closely. "That doesn't stop this thing from being downright disgusting."

The lump of flesh that Eleanor was holding had a certain gory quality to it. To Gabrielle, the closest thing she could compare it to would be a deformed human kidney, but the colouring was off.

"It's too dark to be a kidney," Eleanor stated, catching Gabrielle's drift immediately. "But it seems to have a similar purpose – filtering the blood. We're not sure what it is, or why it was found in our victim's body, but we're sure it's not human."

"Does it match any of the species in our database?" Justin asked, peering closer at the lump of tissue in fascination. Eleanor lowered the kidney-esque object down onto the table and peeled off her gloves.

"No," she answered. "But I sent some samples down to the Lovegoods. See what they can make of it. Merlin knows I haven't got a clue."

Eleanor shook her head, then fished her wand out from where she had tucked it behind her ear. With a calm flick, she levitated the object into a box and then sealed it.

"Good riddance," stated Gabrielle sardonically.

"I'm going to go store this," Eleanor said, holding up the box. "It's not of much use to us until we get some info on it."

Eleanor disappeared down a narrow corridor leaving Justin and Gabrielle alone in the room.

When Gabrielle had first been recruited into the unit, she'd been seventeen and fresh out of Wizarding education. She'd had no experience under her belt to speak for, despite having been trained in duelling by her sister since she was twelve, and had been shocked speechless by the Complex where she was supposed to work.

The entire Complex was lit by artificial lights, but unlike Hogwarts, they were styled to look like muggle light-fittings. The atmosphere of the area was a purely efficient one and the solid walls with little decoration had taken a while to get used to. Even now, the distinct muggle-esque feel the rooms had made her feel uncomfortable at times, even though she'd been working there for three years.

There were three rooms in the complex: the medical centre, which Eleanor could claim as her domain; a storage room that had been enchanted several times to fit more stuff than should be physically possible; and the main room.

The main room's purpose varied and so it was designed to suit this. Most often, it was used for paperwork and planning, so there was a decisive admin feel to it, but at times, the desks were pushed back, the chairs were banished and the space was used for sparring. Each consecutive spar was more vicious than the last and there was no telling when they were going to occur.

Recently, though, their unit had been in a sort of downwards spiral. Things had been quiet. Disturbingly quiet, actually, and Wales was starting to live up to its reputation as a nice, quiet place to settle down. Even the backlog of paperwork – which had been quite extensive – was non-existent and their unit had started to be assigned basic Auror work, like investigating murders.

It was in carrying out this work that the kidney-but-not-a-kidney had turned up. It had been in the groin area of their victim, tapped into the Aorta and Vena Cava like a transplant would be. And they were suddenly baffled as to what it was and how it had gotten there.

Eleanor had immediately deduced that it didn't seem harmful, but had yet to accurately pinpoint its purpose. And that was the most exciting thing to happen recently.

It was almost depressing, Gabrielle decided, that she was starting to miss the days of the possessed sheep.

Gabrielle sighed and smiled slightly when she noticed the slightly dazed look on Justin's face. He was infatuated, she had realised on her first day working, with Eleanor. It was plain as day to anyone with eyes – which meant that only Harry and she had noticed.

"Right," Justin said, snapping out of his daze. "We should get on with some paperwork."

Normally, Gabrielle would have groaned, but this time she smiled.

"We don't have any," she stated.

Justin blinked.

"What?" he asked intelligently.

"We don't have any paperwork," Gabrielle repeated. "The last time anything interesting happened was when—" Gabrielle would have continued, but she was cut off.

**CRACK!**

The reactions were instant.

Gabrielle whipped her wand out of its leg holster, spinning around to face the direction of the noise. She could sense that Justin had done the same and, far down in the storage room, Eleanor would have probably reacted exactly the same way. The magic for a particularly nasty hex was at Gabrielle's fingertips, ready to be used, when she saw who it was. Lowering her wand, Gabrielle sighed.

"Well, if it isn't Dennis the Menace," she stated, dropping her wand back into its holster. "I was _this,_" Gabrielle held her fingers up, an inch apart, "close to hexing your backside into oblivion."

Justin, too, was putting his wand away. He shook his head.

"What are the rules of apparating into HQ?" he asked rhetorically.

"Attempt it at your own risk!" came a shout from deep within the Complex, presumably from Eleanor as she stored the box.

Dennis Creevey stood before them, grinning slightly.

"Lovely to see you too, Gobby," he said to Gabrielle, whose face flushed at his nickname for her. Dennis turned to face the second-in-command. "Hey Justin," he said. "I have news."

Justin shook his head again.

"Look, Dennis," he said. "I already told you that I don't care how hot the nurse in the local hospital is, I am not going back there after—"

Dennis, however cut him off.

"No," he said hurriedly. "The Boss found them."

Eleanor's face peeked out of the corridor. Her green eyes were pinned on Dennis with ravenous interest.

"You mean..?" she started, but drifted off.

Dennis nodded.

"Yep," he said. "The Boss found Torchwood."

* * *

_So, first chapter here. Ready and waiting to go. I'm overwhelmed by the phenomenal response I got in terms of Alerts, but c'mon guys, drop a review! I promise I'll be nice…_

_So, yeah, please review as we are now coming to the main plot._

_Oh, as for the ages of Harry's team:_

Harry – 26  
Dennis – 23  
Gabrielle – 20  
Eleanor – 23  
Justin – 26

_So, this is me done._

_-Kaputt_

_PS: Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

"The Boss found Torchwood."

It took all of three seconds for their unit to swing into an action plan that was so smooth it seemed almost rehearsed. Quills were traded for wands; casual clothes were traded for combat gear. Each member of the unit acted as if this were just another high alert operation.

But it wasn't.

They all knew that fact – knew that this was both _important _and _personal _– but they pretended like they didn't care.

Eleanor shrugged calmly out of her lab coat, throwing the tailored, navy piece of cloth into her locker and retrieving a pair of dragon-hide boots. The boots themselves were battered, having been used multiple times, but had been kept nicely. As she tugged them on over her stripy socks, Eleanor marvelled at how comfy they were. These were the best money could buy.

Underneath her lab-coat, Eleanor was already dressed in the unit's designated battle-gear. Coloured in muted greens and browns, the outfit could easily be mistaken as a liberal choice of dressing if they were caught in a muggle area, but was covered in so many enchantments that someone could have run at her with a bludgeoning ram and Eleanor would probably survive.

After pulling a pair of gloves on over her hands for protection, Eleanor withdrew her wand from its place behind her ear and slotted it into the wand-holster up her sleeve. She was just checking herself over when a voice came from behind her, startling her slightly.

"You ready, Hell's Bells?"

Eleanor turned around to see Dennis stood behind her, fully prepared.

"Yeah," Eleanor said. "Just let me grab a med-kit and we can go."

Dennis nodded and took to slouching against the wall, observing Eleanor as she rooted through another locker, looking for the offending item.

"You don't ever grow out of it, do you?" Dennis asked softly, just as Eleanor's fingers grasped around a green and white container.

"Grow out of what?" Eleanor asked, throwing the container into her handbag.

Dennis motioned for them to walk and talk.

"Muggle habits," he clarified. "Most wizards would just lazily summon the med-kit, but to you, it feels better to look through everything manually."

"If you're going to spout some crap about how muggleborns can't ever be fully integrated into society—"

"It's not bad, Ellie," Dennis cut across her. "Just different." Then, in a change of subject so sudden it was almost awkward, Dennis said, "We're baby-sitting the kid. Justin and Gobby are playing back-up for the Boss, so we're to go and hold the fort, so to speak."

Eleanor nodded. "They already leave?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dennis confirmed.

An uneasy silence settled over the duo.

"This is big, isn't it?" Eleanor whispered.

Dennis didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Apparate on three?"

Eleanor nodded.

"One—"

Dennis's silence just reinforced what she already knew. If they screwed this up, Harry would probably never be the same again.

"Two—"

And Harry had saved them – saved them all. They couldn't let that happen.

"Three!"

CRACK!

* * *

Jack's voice choked in his throat. He stared at Harry, his swaggering demeanour completely lost.

_His hand in Jack's…_

"Gray?" Jack managed to say.

Harry leant back against the bar, coolly regarding Jack.

"Your brother," he stated.

_He didn't mean to let him go…_

Jack's entire world seemed to ground to a halt. Gray. Gray. Gray. He'd searched up and down and around and backwards and forwards and sideways and anywhere and everywhere for Gray. He'd run and run and run and run, never stopping to breathe, pulling apart entire planets looking for him. Gray: his first and most irremovable stain.

Jack had failed him.

Jack had failed his family.

Jack had failed himself.

Just the mention of his failure was enough to pull Jack apart at the seams. His wit and sarcasm died on his lips. His commanding voice choked in his throat.

"How..?" he began, too broken to be horrified by how weak he sounded. "When? Where?"

"Bad day at work," Harry replied, answering Jack's questions in a short and relaxed manner. "Don't actually know when. Or where, for that matter. Complete accident, all things considered."

Jack only half listened to Harry's explanations as his brain stumbled over the realisation. Gray was alive. Hopefully. He could make it better. Not right, but better. The pieces seemed to slot into place in his brain and his steady resolve took charge over his emotionally charged thought processes.

Keep it cool, Cap'n, he told himself. Don't give him what he wants. Business first.

"How did you find me?" Jack asked, forcing himself to relax.

"Now isn't that a story?" Harry asked rhetorically, playing with a drinks coaster that was on the bar-top. "Trust me when I say you didn't make it easy. I'm not an easy man to elude and it took me _two _years to find you. It didn't help that I had relatively little to go on – just a first name and a basic description of you as a child. But we kept trying, kept pulling strings, calling in favours until a year ago, we managed to get a breakthrough. We didn't get much, but we did get one word: Torchwood."

Jake raked his eyes over Harry's face, ignoring but still noticing, the handsome nature of his features. The use of the first person plural in Harry's dialogue hadn't escaped Jack's noticed and Jack suspected it had been dropped into his speech deliberately. Harry was trying to tell Jack that he wasn't alone.

Which nixed killing him as a suitable solution.

Which it never was, given how he needed this man alive to save his brother and all.

But the really worrying thing that Harry had said was about Torchwood. No one, and Jack meant _no one, _found Torchwood when they were trying to hide.

Unless they did some serious political lobbying – had some serious influence – people shouldn't be able to find it out through the usual channels. And Jack trusted Tosh; no one should be able to get into their systems. And any old team members were dead.

So how had Harry gotten that word?

And linked it back to him?

And then it hit him. The same clues Gwen had found – the small dregs and afterimages that they'd left behind half out of curiosity as to who would pick up on them – could have been found by anyone.

Jack was willing to bet Harry could hear his brain whirring, but the man ignored it, merely throwing the drinks coaster into the air and then catching it.

Gameface, Cap'n, he told himself. Gameface.

"We don't make a habit of broadcasting our activities, " Jack said, flashing a smile at Harry. It was his back-up plan. When all else failed, turn on the charm. It was one of the unspoken rules of the universe; Jack could charm himself into the good books – and underwear – of anyone.

Harry shot Jack an amused look, snatching the coaster out of the air.

"Of course you don't," Harry said in a tone that spoke of hidden irony. "That's why I had no idea where to find you for the best part of a year. Believe me, that's impressive enough as it is." Harry sighed wistfully. "It was just good fortune that I decided to settle my tab with the local pizza place this afternoon, when, thanks to a policewoman who seemed hot on your tails, I found out you ordered pizza under the name of Torchwood."

Harry met Jack's gaze head-on. "Very subtle." He paused, then thoughtfully ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Come to think of it, it's almost embarrassing we missed that."

And that was why Owen was never ordering take-out for the Hub again.

"After that," Harry continued unperturbed, "it was merely a case of relocating PC Cooper after she left into your evil lair and as slippery as all mu— _State _police officials are, you," Harry jabbed a finger at him, "dress in quite possibly the least inconspicuous manner I have ever seen."

"But I do look damned good, don't I?" Jack all but smirked. There, he was falling back into this now. Easy as pie.

Harry's eyes flickered over Jack's form. He shrugged.

"I've seen worse," he said cryptically.

Jack decided that he'd take it as a compliment. Even if it sounded something like a sneer.

"Presumably, our efforts to track me down weren't based solely on a raging desire to get some of this," Jack gestured vaguely at his body, "so what can I do you for, Harry James Potter, spelled as it sounds?"

When Jack saw the amusement flash across Harry's face, he felt a mild jolt of triumph. The man was relaxing. Letting his guard down. Good.

"I'd like you, Captain Jack Harkness, to place _this_," Harry lifted Jack's hand up from where it was resting on the bar-top, "on _this_." He placed Jack's hand onto the coaster he had been playing with.

Jack couldn't help but feel this was all a bit strange.

"Are you going to do a magic trick?" Jack couldn't help but ask, layering it with as much leer as possible.

Harry smiled sardonically. "Maybe."

Jack opened his mouth to make a quip about wizards, but Harry interrupted. "Trust me when I say that there is no joke about magic wands you could tell me that I wouldn't have already heard."

Jack seriously doubted that. By the fifty-first century, people had gotten far more creative with innuendos. There were things he could say to Harry that the poor bloke wouldn't even understand, but would still make him blush just from the implications.

"So, is there a safety word?" Jack continued with energy. "Alakazam? Abbra—"

"_Portus._"

"That's an odd one. What does it—"

And suddenly, Jack wished that he had closed his mouth.

Because he felt like he was going to be sick.

* * *

"Was that what I thought—"

"Were you thinking Harry just created an illegal port-key?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, yes that was."

"Doesn't he remember what happened last time?"

"I don't think he cares."

"You know what this means, right, Dennis?"

"What?"

"More paperwork."

"…Can I kill him?"

* * *

Harry neither disliked nor liked Jack Harkness after his first meeting of the man. In his head, Harry could list the captain's attributes in things that made Harry like him and things that made Harry want to snap his neck. PRO: he had a sense of humour. CON: it was dirtier than the tunnel down to the Chamber of Secrets. PRO: he obviously cared about his brother. CON: it was hard to tell if he cared more about himself. PRO: he hadn't tried to kill Harry… And, come to think of it, it was rather worrying just how often that happened… CON: he had flirted outrageously with him… And, come to think of it, that happened far too often as well.

Harry resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it and instead turned his attention back to the unconscious captain before him.

A crack sounded behind Harry, as Gabrielle apparated in.

"Well, fuck me." She walked around Harry and stared at the man on the ground. Using her wand, she pried open his lips and inspected the perfect rows of white teeth.

"Where _ever _did you find such a _fine_ specimen, Boss?" Gabrielle asked, prodding Jack's face with her wand. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

Another crack went off and Justin appeared to the side of Harry. He looked between his boss and the conked out man on the floor before he shook his head.

"We've talked about this, Boss," Justin stated wryly. "Handing your spiked drinks to random strangers just isn't fair."

"Can we keep him?"

"I didn't spike his drink," Harry replied. "Just a bit of impromptu port-keying."

"Can I at least get Ellie to clone him?"

"Boss, I hate to say it, but you know what sort of trouble your last illegal port-key got you into, don't you?" Justin asked rhetorically.

"I promise I'll take good care of him!"

Harry scowled. "It's different this time."

"Please!"

"How?"

"He's so cute!"

"I won't get caught."

Justin raised his eyebrows, regarding Harry in a manner that clearly said, 'I don't believe you for a second, but I'm going to let this go in favour of dealing with what we have to do right now.'

Harry sent him back a look that read, 'Please. I won't get caught. You and I both know that. Now stop being annoying and reign in Gabrielle before she drools over the captain.'

Justin sighed. "Gabby, he's not a dog."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "You take away all my fun," she said. "I want to act immature for _one_ second and you go all stony-ass on me."

She withdrew her wand from its holster and pointed it at Jack's face.

"_Enneverate._"

Jack's eyes snapped open.

"Captain Jack Harkness and _who _are _you_?"

* * *

_This is around the fourth draft there is of this chapter and I'm still not satisfied. What I am satisfied with is that I finally finished it and am posting it post-haste. What did actually make me finish this chapter and get it up was the reviews. I just want to say thank you._

_And I had to stick that last line in there somewhere. It was his catch-phrase on Doctor Who, for crying out loud!_

_So, my dear readers, until we meet again._

_Kaputt_

_PS: Reviews make me smile. Make a person smile. You know you want to. _


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